Totodile
by StrawberryFunk
Summary: Kris and Lyra may not even know each other, but it's funny how they can still be so like each other.


It's 2001 and late July. Three Pokémon sit on Professor Elm's desk and he is waiting for the arrival of the girl living next door. How old is she, now, ten? She's absolutely beaming with childish glee as she walks in, with her bright blue pigtails bouncing up and down, but the way she walks is confident. Mature.

"I'm here, Professor Elm!" she announces, beaming up at him and fiddling gently with her PokéGear. He smiles at her and explains the situation, and then he gestures towards the Pokéballs at the table.

Her eyes widen and at his okay she lets all of them out, and her face lights up like a child on Christmas day. He tells her, "Pick one," and she thinks it over very carefully. The little green one stretches out her leaf and yawns, and another spouts fire from his back in anticipation. The blue one in the middle of them sits on his rear with a vacant look on his face, and slowly that look turns into a wide, toothy grin. He cries out, "To! Toto! Dile, dile!" and flails a little in place, showing the girl his bright white fangs.

"Hey, cutie," she says, and reaches out a hand. Elm jumps up, ready to warn her, but the Totodile has already clenched his jaw around her hand. She lets out a small cry and she flinches, but she doesn't immediately try to snatch her hand back, which Elm knows would only end in disaster. But how did she? Either way, the girl leans forward and glares at the Totodile and says sharply, "No." His joyful face falls, and she gives him a gentle bop on the snout with her other hand. He lets go and she takes her hand back, looking at the tiny fang marks.

"Can I get a band-aid, Professor Elm?" she asks, "Or maybe just some gauze. And this little fella's Pokéball, while you're at it!"

Elm's jaw almost drops, but he can't help but respect this girl's wisdom. When she's got her hand bandaged up and Elm gives her the Pokéball, she puts it in her pocket and lifts up the blue Pokémon in her arms. (Elm can't help but notice how well it matches her hair.) He scrambles around her shoulders and onto her head, then sinks his teeth into her bright yellow hat. She winces slightly but the two front fangs hardly even get to her head, but the Pokémon manages to keep himself latched on without hurting the girl.

"You're so funny, Chomps!" she giggles, "My name is Kris."

It's mid-March of 2010. Three Pokémon sit on Professor Elm's desk and he is waiting for the arrival of the girl living next door now. How old is she, now, ten? She's walking with a childish bounce, stumbling over herself and her pointed brown pigtails springing up and down, but she has a certain look of confidence in her eye. Her face is mature.

"I'm here, Professor Elm!" she announces, staring at him with a happy determination. He explains the situation to her with a smile and gestures to the Pokéballs at the table, telling her to pick one.

At his okay, she lets the three of them out and grins at them with a certain hint of glee. She thinks her choice over very carefully, watching as the little Chikorita stretches her leaf and yawn, the Cyndaquil lights up his back in anticipation, and the Totodile sits on its rear with a vacant look on his face. Slowly, he looks up at the girl and his face spreads into a grin that shows her all his teeth. He cries out, "To! Totodile!" and flails a little in place.

"Hi there," she says, and before Elm can stop her, the girl reaches out her hand and the Pokémon immediately clenches his jaws around her hand. She lets out a very slight, almost squeaky cry, and she flinches but she doesn't make the usually instinctive but always disastrous move of drawing her hand back. Instead, in an all-too-familiar display of wisdom, she firmly tells him, "No," and bops him gently on the nose. He lets go and the girl looks at the tiny bite marks on her hand.

"Can I please have a band-aid or two, Professor?" she asks, "And this sweetie pie's Pokéball, too!"

Elm's jaw almost drops but he's filled with a strange sense of delightful nostalgia as the girl scoops up the Pokémon into her arms (he clashes horribly with the red and dark blue of her outfit, Elm notices) and scrambles up and around her shoulders and sinks his teeth into her giant, poofy white hat. The hat is so large that he doesn't even get near the girl's head, but she doesn't seem to mind.

"You're so silly, Fangs!" she laughs. "Oh, and my name is Lyra."

Two girls enter the Pokémon Center at the base of Mt. Silver one shortly after the other, both here for return visits. What's unusual and oddly coincidental is the Feraligatr they both tote behind them. The second girl who enters sits next to the first one (she must be almost ten years older than her!), with their Feraligatr sitting at the opposite sides.

"Hey," says the second girl with a chuckle, "Nice Feraligatr."

"Thanks," the first girl giggles and flips her ponytail back, "He goes _so_well with my hair!"

They both laugh and their Feraligatr look at each other curiously. The first girl then asks, "Professor Elm?"

"Yeah! I'm from New Bark Town."

"Hey, so am I!"

"Oh, wow! My name's Lyra, by the way."

"Kris."


End file.
